


At First Glance

by ShhImWriting



Series: In a World of Black and White [2]
Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: 1940's edition, F/M, Noir AU, Oneshot, Paul's first trip to Beanies, Paul's smitten with Emma, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:21:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShhImWriting/pseuds/ShhImWriting
Summary: Paul's first trip to Beanies in my Noir AU. Alternatively known as "It doesn't matter what time period it is, Paul's still smitten with Emma"
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Series: In a World of Black and White [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218611
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	At First Glance

**Author's Note:**

> This is from a tumblr request and I decided to post it as the first of what may become a few oneshots from my noir AU! I've not yet decided if I want to make the Noir AU a series, but I do know that I want to write a couple of oneshots for this AU...mainly because I'm a sucker for film noir!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!!

“Matthews!”

Paul snapped up from the place he'd been sleeping on his desk, his tired eyes feeling somewhat raw and sore from the lack of sleep he’d gotten the night before. He glanced up and saw his boss, Davidson approaching him. He quickly snapped up and straightened his desk, anything to at the very least convince the man that he’d not fallen asleep on the job.

He’d been working late the night before, working hard on writing a review for one of the newer plays that had come out the previous week. He would have already made the deadline with that story, had it not been for the fact that Davidson absolutely hated the fact that Paul had written badly about it. It was, in fact, a tedious three-hour play in which the characters experienced no development and the story made no sense, so Paul had done his job right in his judgment of it. However, Mr. Davidson’s wife had helped produce the play, or sponsored it- honestly, Paul couldn’t keep track of everything his boss mentioned his wife to be capable of- and when he’d read Paul’s rather scathing review, he’d told Paul to rewrite it as it was ‘too subjective’. So, Paul had stayed at the Gazette until the later hours of the night, just barely managing to make the deadline and not getting nearly enough sleep when he finally did manage to make it home.

He tried to manage a tired smile at his boss as the man approached, coffee mug in hand.

“What’s the matter, man?” his boss asked, “You lookin’ for something under your desk?”

Paul nodded, deciding to go along with the lie, “Yeah...just a pencil.”

“Hmm,” the man nodded, “Well...good job with the rewrite of that review, I’m sure Carol will appreciate it.”

Paul sighed, silently deciding to not argue that the play was awful and through writing the rewrite, it was making a liar out of him, “I’m glad to hear it.”

Davidson clapped him on the back and flashed Bill, who was sitting at the desk across from Paul’s, a smile, “You alright Woodward? You look tired.”

Paul held his inward protests as he watched his best friend have to stifle a laugh.

“No sir,” Bill spoke politely, looking at Paul out of the corner of his eye, “Fit as a fiddle.”

“Great,” Mr. Davidson gave Bill a thumbs up before walking off in his usual odd fashion. Almost as if the man were walking with purpose, but nobody would ever know exactly what that purpose was.

Bill laughed quietly and turned over to face Paul, “Now...I’m not tired, but what about you? I’m fairly sure that rewrite cost you a month of sleep.”

“I’d believe it,” Paul yawned, “At one point I found myself writing ‘the play is a play’ because I was so tired and couldn’t think of anything good about it.”

Bill nodded, “Alice made me go see it because her friend Deb worked the set design for the show...even she couldn’t stay awake through the play because it was so bad.”

Paul sighed and nodded, trying not to remember the number of times he wished he was wearing a watch to check how much longer they had until intermission.

“I’m gonna go grab some coffee,” Paul stood from his desk before looking over at the large coffee pot on one of the side shelves only to remember that Ted had somehow managed to break it the day before. He let a heavy sigh loose and Bill laughed from his place at his desk.

“I don’t know how Ted managed to break it,” Bill laughed, “But we’re not getting the new pot until tomorrow.”

Paul groaned, cringing slightly at how he felt like a petulant child. He turned to face Bill, “Do you know of anywhere else where I might get coffee?”

Bill thought for a while, his brow creasing slightly, “Well...I did hear about a coffee house a few blocks down that opened a few months ago...Beanies, I think it’s called.”

“Great,” Paul sighed, “Now...that’s on first street?”

“Yeah,” Bill nodded, “I think it’s across the street from Papa Ed’s place.”

Paul quickly moved to grab his coat and pull it over his shoulders, the desperation for caffeine fueling him, “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Cool,” Bill nodded, “I’ll cover for you.”

With that, Paul made his way down the stairs, somehow managing to avoid getting accosted by Ted on the way out, making it to the elevator and front lobby, before leaving the sound of rackety typewriters behind.

It was a chilly early spring day in Hatchetfield, the roads still containing the snowmelt from a few days before as a chilly wind bit against his face. He’d known Hatchetfield his whole life, and he knew the streets like the back of his hand, which meant it was easy for him to find his way to first street.

It was odd how he’d never heard of Beanies in the time that it had been open. True, he never went down first street as often, but at the very least he was fairly certain he would have known if something new had opened. Still, the unfamiliar sight of a mint-green sign against a somewhat dilapidated brick building was new to him.

He pulled open the door to the building and was almost instantly met by the sound of piano music and singing in addition to the scent of both booze and coffee, almost instantly making him regret coming there in the first place.

As it turned out, Beanies was something of a dance hall and coffeehouse.

But right now that didn’t matter. He was tired, and he would have very much liked to stay awake for the next few hours.

He sauntered up through the bar, the dim light cast by a few Edison bulbs and tacky sconces making him almost trip over a few things in the process. It was clear that although the place was new, the person who’d decorated had half-assed the job, and maintenance of the cleanliness of the place was not well-kept, since there were stains of all kinds of things all over the hardwood floor.

The sound of jazz music and a sultry, albeit pitchy voice, greeted him and he looked up to see a small, round stage off to the side, with a piano beside it. On the stage, there was a tall, thin woman with dark brown curls which fell down one side of her shoulders. She wore a dress that was better suited for evening galas and he was fairly certain he’d seen her before...in the play that he’d had to write a terrible review for the night before. He sighed as she continued her rendition of what he was fairly certain he’d heard Rosemary Clooney sing in a film somewhere.

Still, he sauntered up to the bar, too desperate for caffeine to leave.

He took a seat at one of the barstools, his eyes turned downward.

He could hear a slight groan, as the woman on stage finished her song and the few people in the bar clapped for her.

“Thank God that’s over…”

He glanced up and suddenly his jaw went slack at the sight of the bartender.

It was a woman, about his age but significantly shorter, with tanned skin and lovely dark eyes that were filled with annoyance. Her dark hair was pulled up in a somewhat messily-placed bun, with stray waves which seemed to frame her angular face. Like him, she looked exhausted as she rolled her eyes at her coworker’s flourishing, and she seemed just generally annoyed with the rest of the world.

Her eyes flitted from the stage to him, finally realizing that she had a customer. She managed a small smile that he could have only recognized as a customer-service smile before leaning against the bar.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, her voice clearly not wasting any time with pleasantries.

For a moment, he just stood there lamely...as if no words could come to his mind as he took in the sight of this woman.

For some reason, any words, including his usual coffee order just seemed to run dry, leaving him speechless.

He didn’t know why. He’d never immediately found himself so speechless in the presence of a beautiful woman such as her...though, beautiful didn’t seem to do this sharp, petite woman any justice.

“Um...hello?”

He was snapped out of his daze as he tried desperately to find words as she looked at him, a somewhat impatient expression on her face.

“You okay there?” she asked, “You gonna order something or what?”

“Um…” he stammered, hating the way he felt as if all words were flying in circles around him and he couldn’t just grab onto them, “Um...a coffee…”

She nodded slowly, “A coffee?”

“Y-Yeah!” he said, a little too quickly, “Yeah...just a b-black coffee...Nothing in it...no cream, no sugar...just...yeah...Black coffee.”

She seemed a little taken aback by his sudden inability to speak before shrugging and setting to making his drink. As she worked, he had to work hard not to stare, not knowing what the hell was wrong with him. Then, before he could even manage to get himself together, she passed him a mug of a steaming hot drink and told him the price, which he handed over quickly and moved to a table, so he could keep himself from weirding her out any farther.

He cursed himself inwardly as he tore his eyes away from the woman, who was arguing with another one of her coworkers.

What was wrong with him?

This had never happened before.

Sure, he’d found himself speechless, usually whenever people paid him a compliment he didn’t know how to respond to, or if he found himself in a situation he wasn’t sure he could read right...but this was entirely different. There was something about this woman that made him feel like he had a heart condition. Almost as if his insides were melting and scattering amongst his ribs...like... _butterflies_.

He’d accidentally burnt his tongue when he took a swig of the piping hot drink, which tasted mostly like dirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His mind was racing, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

Though the coffee tasted like what he assumed fertilizer tasted like, he found himself planning to come back the next day, not really understanding why.

Maybe...some things were worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> So...Paul's a smitten dork...and it doesn't matter that Beanies has been infested by theatre kids.  
> He's too much of a nerd to let that scare him off, especially where Emma is concerned. 
> 
> Hopefully this will be the first of a few oneshots for this AU. I hope you enjoyed it!!!
> 
> Please leave comments or kudos if you wish! I'd love to hear your feedback and commentary in regards to this!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> My Tumblr: @ShhImAvoidingSleep


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